The Liberty Minstrel

Over the mountain wave
See where they come;
Storm-cloud and wintry wind
Welcome them home;
Yet where the sounding gale
Howls to the sea,
There their song peals along,
Deep toned and free.
Pilgrims and wanderers,
Hither we come;
Where the free dare to be,
This is our home.

England hath sunny dales,
Dearly they bloom;
Scotia hath heather-hills,
Sweet their perfume:
Yet through the wilderness
Cheerful we stray,
Native land, native land—
Home far away!
Pilgrims, &c.

Dim grew the forest path,
Onward they trod:
Firm beat their noble hearts,
Trusting in God!
Gray men and blooming maids,
High rose their song—
Hear it sweep, clear and deep
Ever along!
Pilgrims, &c.

Not theirs the glory-wreath,
Torn by the blast;
Heavenward their holy steps,
Heavenward they passed!
Green be their mossy graves!
Ours be their fame,
While their song peals along,
Ever the same!
Pilgrims, &c.

Feebly the bondman toiled,
Sadly he wept—
Then to his wretched cot
Mournfully crept:
How doth his free-born soul
Pine 'neath his chain!
Slavery! Slavery!
Dark is thy reign.

Long ere the break of day,
Roused from repose,
Wearily toiling
Till after its close—
Praying for freedom,
He spends his last breath:
Liberty! Liberty!
Give me, or death.

When, when, oh Lord! will right
Triumph o'er wrong?
Tyrants oppress the weak,
Oh Lord!how long?
Hark! hark! a peal resounds
From shore to shore—
Tyranny! Tyranny!
Thy reign is o'er.

E'en now the morning
Gleams from the East—
Despots are feeling
Their triumph is past—
Strong hearts are answering
To freedom's loud call—
Liberty! Liberty!
Full and for all.

We have a goodly clime,
Broad vales and streams we boast;
Our mountain frontiers frown sublime,
Old Ocean guards our coast.

Suns bless our harvests fair,
With fervid smile serene,
But a dark shade is gathering there,
What can its blackness mean?

We have a birth-right proud,
For our young sons to claim—
An eagle soaring o'er the cloud,
In freedom and in fame.

We have a scutcheon bright,
By our dead fathers bought;
A fearful blot distains its white—
Who hath such evil wrought?

Our banner o'er the sea
Looks forth with starry eye,
Emblazoned glorious, bold and free,
A letter on the sky—

What hand with shameful stain,
Hath marred its heavenly blue?
The yoke, the fasces, and the chain,
Say, are these emblems true?

This day doth music rare
Swell through our nation's bound,
But Afric's wailing mingles there,
And Heaven doth hear the sound.

O God of power! we turn
In penitence to thee,
Bid our loved land the lesson learn—
To bid the slave be free.

Ye spirits of the free,
Can ye for ever see
Your brother man
A yoked and scourged slave,
Chains dragging to his grave,
And raise no hand to save?
Say if you can.

In pride and pomp to roll,
Shall tyrants from the soul
God's image tear,
And call the wreck their own,—
While from th' eternal throne,
They shut the stifled groan,
And bitter prayer?

Shall he a slave be bound,
Whom God hath doubly crowned
Creation's lord?
Shall men of Christian name,
Without a blush of shame,
Profess their tyrant claim
From God's own word?

No! at the battle cry,
A host prepared to die,
Shall arm for fight—
But not with martial steel,
Grasped with a murderous zeal;
No arms their foes shall feel,
But love and light.

Firm on Jehovah's laws,
Strong in their righteous cause,
They march to save.
And vain the tyrant's mail,
Against their battle-hail,
Till cease the woe and wail
Of tortured slave!

Sing me a triumph song,
Roll the glad notes along,
Great God, to thee!
Thine be the glory bright,
Source of all power and might!
For thou hast said, in might,
Man shall be free.

Sing me a triumph song,
Let all the sound prolong,
Air, earth, and sea,
Down falls the tyrant's power,
See his dread minions cower;
Now, from this glorious hour,
Man will be free.

Sing me a triumph song,
Sing in the mighty throng,
Sing Jubilee!
Let the broad welkin ring,
While to heaven's mighty King,
Honor and praise we sing,
For man is free.

Wake, sons of the Pilgrims, and look to your right!
The despots of Slav'ry are up in their might:
Indulge not in sleep, it's like digging the graves
Of blood-purchased freedom—'tis yielding like slaves.
Then halloo, halloo, halloo to the contest,
Awake from your slumbers, no longer delay,
But struggle for freedom, while struggle you may—
Then rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally,
While our forests shall wave or while rushes a river,
Oh, yield not your birth-right! maintain it for ever!

Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims! why slumber ye on?
Your chains are now forging, your fetters are done;
Oh! sleep not, like Samson, on Slavery's foul arm,
For, Delilah-like, she's now planning your harm.
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest!
Awake from your sleeping—nor slumber again,
Once bound in your fetters, you'll struggle in vain;
While your eye-balls may move, O wake up now, or never—
Wake, freemen! awake, or you're ruined forever!

Yes, freemen are waking! we fling to the breeze,
The bright flag of freedom, the banner of Peace;
The slave long forgotten, forlorn, and alone,
We hail as a brother—our own mother's son!
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest!
For freedom we rally—for freedom to all—
To rescue the slave, and ourselves too from thrall.
We rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally—
While a slave shall remain, bound, the weak by the stronger,
We will never disband, but strive harder and longer.

Our countrymen are dying
Beneath their cankering chains,
Full many a heart is sighing,
Where nought but slav'ry reigns;
No note of joy and gladness,
No voice with freedom's lay,
Fall on them in their sadness,
To wipe those tears away.

Where proud Potomac dashes
Along its northern strand,
Where Rappahannock lashes
Virginia's sparkling sand;
Where Eutaw, famed in story,
Flows swift to Santee's stream,
There, there in grief and gory,
The pining slave is seen!

And shall New England's daughters,
Descendants of the free,
Beside whose far-famed waters
Is heard sweet minstrelsy—
Shall they, when hearts are breaking,
And woman weeps in woe,
Shall they, all listless waiting,
No hearts of pity show.

No! let the shout for freedom
Ring out a certain peal,
Let sire and youthful maiden,
All who have hearts to feel,
Awake! and with the blessing
Of Him who came to save,
A holy, peaceful triumph,
Shall greet the kneeling slave!

We ask not "martial glory,"
Nor "battles bravely won;"
We tell no boastful story
To laud our "favorite son;"
We do not seek to gather
From glory's field of blood,
The laurels of the warrior,
Steeped in the crimson flood—

But we can boast that Birney
Holds not the tyrant's rod,
Nor binds in chains and fetters,
The image of his God;
No vassal, at his bidding,
Is doomed the lash to feel;
No menial crouches near him,
No Charley's[3] at his heel.

His heart is free from murder,
His hand without its stain;
His head and heart united,
To loose the bondman's chain:
His deeds of noble daring,
Shall make the tyrant cower;
Oppression flees before him,
With all its boasted power.

Soon shall the voice of freedom,
O'er earth its echoes roll—
And earth's rejoicing millions
Be free, from pole to pole.
Then rally round your leader,
Ye friends of liberty;
And let the shout for Birney,
Ring out o'er land and sea.

Come, join the Abolitionists,
Ye young men bold and strong,
And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
Come, help the cause along:
Come help the cause along,
Come help the cause along;
And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
Come, help the cause along.
Oh that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
Oh that will be joyful,
When Slav'ry is no more,
When Slav'ry is no more,
When Slav'ry is no more:
'Tis then we'll sing, and off'rings bring,
When Slav'ry is no more.

Come, join the Abolitionists,
Ye men of riper years,
And save your wives and children dear,
From grief and bitter tears:
From grief and bitter tears,
From grief and bitter tears;
And save your wives and children dear,
From grief and bitter tears.
Oh that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
Oh that will be joyful,
When Slav'ry is no more,
When Slav'ry is no more,
When Slav'ry is no more:
'Tis then we'll sing, and off'rings bring,
When Slav'ry is no more.

Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye dames and maidens fair;
And breathe around us in our path,
Affection's hallowed air.
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful,
When woman cheers us on,
When woman cheers us on,
When woman cheers us on,
To conquests not yet won;
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When woman cheers us on.

Come, join the Abolitionists,
Ye sons and daughters all;
Of this our own America,
Come at the friendly call.
O that will be joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful,
When all shall proudly say,
This, this is Freedom's day,
Oppression flee away!
'Tis then we'll sing and offerings bring,
When Freedom wins the day.

We are come, all come, with the crowded throng,
To join our notes in a plaintive song;
For the bond man sighs, and the scalding tear
Runs down his cheek while we mingle here.

We are come, all come, with a hallowed vow,
At the shrine of slavery never to bow,
For the despot's reign o'er hill and plain,
Spreads grief and woe in his horrid train.

We are come, all come, a determined band,
To rescue the slave from the tyrant's hand;
And our prayers shall ascend with our songs to Him
Who sits in the midst of the cherubim.

We are come, all come, in the strength of youth,
In the light of hope and the power of truth;
And we joy to see in our ranks to-day,
The honored locks of the good and grey.

We are come, all come, in our holy might,
And freedom's foes shall be put to flight;
Oh God! with favoring smiles from thee,
Our songs shall soon chant the victory.

Blest is the man whose tender heart
Feels all another's pain,
To whom the supplicating eye
Was never raised in vain,
Was never raised in vain.

Whose breast expands with generous warmth,
A stranger's woe to feel,
And bleeds in pity o'er the wound,
He wants the power to heal,
He wants the power to heal.

He spreads his kind supporting arms,
To every child of grief;
His secret bounty largely flows,
And brings unasked relief.

To gentle offices of love
His feet are never slow;
He views, through mercy's melting eye,
A brother in his foe.

To him protection shall be shown,
And mercy from above
Descend on those, who thus fulfil
The perfect law of love.

Oh charity! thou heavenly grace,
All tender, soft, and kind,
A friend to all the human race,
To all that's good inclined.

The man of charity extends
To all his helping hand;
His kindred, neighbors, foes, and friends,
His pity may command.

The sick, the prisoner, deaf, and blind,
And all the sons of grief,
In him a benefactor find;
He loves to give relief.

'Tis love that makes religion sweet
'Tis love that makes us rise;
With willing minds, and ardent feet,
To yonder happy skies.

From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat—
Our refuge is the Mercy-seat.

There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads,
A place than all beside more sweet—
We seek the blood-bought Mercy-seat.

There is a spot where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Though sundered far, by faith we meet,
Around one common Mercy-Seat.

Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
When hunted, scourged, oppressed, dismayed,—
Or how our bloody foes defeat,
Had suffering slaves no Mercy-Seat!

Oh! let these hands forget their skill,
These tongues be silent, cold, and still,
These throbbing hearts forget to beat,
If we forget the Mercy-Seat.

God of my life! to thee I call,
Afflicted at thy feet I fall;
When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail.

Friend of the friendless and the faint!
Where should I lodge my deep complaint?
Where but with thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?

Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner's plea?
Does not thy word still fixed remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain?

Poor though I am, despised, forgot,
Yet God, my God forgets me not;
And he is safe, he must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

Wake ye numbers! from your slumbers
Hear the song of freedom pour!
By its shaking, fiercely breaking,
Every chain upon our shore.
Flags are waving, all tyrants braving,
Proudly, freely, o'er our plains;
Let no minions check our pinions,
While a single grief remains.
Proud oblations, thou Queen of nations!
Have been poured upon they waters;
Afric's bleeding sons and daughters,
Now before us, loud implore us,
Looking to Jehovah's throne,
Chains are wearing, hearts despairing,
Will ye hear a nation's moan?
Soothe their sorrow, ere the morrow
Change their aching hearts to stone:
Then the light of nature's smile
Freedom's realm shall bless the while;
And the pleasure mercy brings
Flow from all her latent springs;
Delight shall spread, shall spread her shining wings,
Rejoicing, Rejoicing, Rejoicing.

Daily, nightly, burning brightly,
Glory's pillar fills the air;
Hearts are waking, chains are breaking,
Freedom bids her sons prepare:
O'er the ocean, in proud devotion,
Incense rises to the skies;
From our mountains, o'er our fountains,
See, our Eagle proudly flies!
What deploring impedes his soaring?
Millions still in bondage sighing!
Long in deep oppression lying!
Shall their story mar our glory?
Must their life in sorrow flow?
Tears are falling! fetters galling!
Listen to the cry of woe!
Still oppressing! never blessing!
Shall their grief no ending know?
Yes! our nation yet shall feel;
Time shall break the chain of steel;
Then the slave shall nobly stand;
Peace shall smile with lustre bland;
Glory shall crown our happy land—
Forever.

Come on, my partners in distress,
My comrades in this wilderness,
Who groan beneath your chains;
A while forget your griefs and fears,
And look beyond this vale of tears,
To yon celestial plains.

Beyond the bounds of time and space,
Look forward to that heavenly place,
Which mortals never trod;
On faith's strong eagle pinions rise,
Work out your passage to the skies,
And scale the mount of God.

If, like our Lord, we suffer here,
We shall before his face appear,
And at his side sit down;
To patient faith the prize is sure,
For all who to the end endure
Shall wear a glorious crown.

Thrice blessed, exalted, blissful hope!
It lifts our fainting spirits up,
It brings to life the dead;
Our bondage here will soon be past,
Then we shall rise and reign at last,
Triumphant with our Head.

Lift up to God the shout of joy,
Let all the earth its powers employ,
To sound his glorious praise;
Say, unto God—"How great art thou!
Thy foes before thy presence bow!
How gracious are thy ways!

"To thee all lands their homage bring,
They raise the song, they shout, they sing
The honors of thy name."
Come! see the wondrous works of God;
How dreadful is his vengeful rod!
How wide extends his fame!

He made a highway through the sea,
His people, long-enslaved, to free,
And give them Canaan's land;
Through endless years his reign extends,
His piercing eye to earth he bends—
Ye despots!fear his hand.

O! bless our God, lift up your voice
Ye people! sing aloud—rejoice—
His mighty praise declare;
The Lord hath made our bondage cease,
Broke off our chains, brought sure release,
And turned to praise our prayer.

Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming,
Comfort to the mourning slave;
God has heard him long complaining,
And extends his arm to save;
Proud oppression
Soon shall find a shameful grave;
Proud oppression,
Soon shall find a shameful end.

See, the light of truth is breaking
Full and clear on every hand;
And the voice of mercy speaking,
Now is heard through all the land:
Firm and fearless,
See the friends of freedom stand.

Lo! the nation is arousing
From its slumber long and deep;
And the friends of God are waking,
Never, never more to sleep,
While a bondman,
In his chains remains to weep.

Long, too long, have we been dreaming
O'er our country's sin and shame:
Let us now, the time redeeming,
Press the helpless captive's claim—
Till exulting,
He shall cast aside his chain.

Joy to the pleasant land we love,
The land our fathers trod!
Joy to the land for which they won
"Freedom to worship God."
For peace on all its sunny hills,
On every mountain broods,
And sleeps by all its gushing rills,
And all its mighty floods.

The wife sits meekly by the hearth,
Her infant child beside;
The father on his noble boy
Looks with a fearless pride.
The grey old man, beneath the tree,
Tales of his childhood tells;
And sweetly in the hush of morn
Peal out the Sabbath bells.

And we are free—but is there not
One blot upon our name?
Is our proud record written fair
Upon the scroll of fame?
Our banner floateth by the shore,
Our flag upon the sea;
But when the fettered slave is loosed,
We shall be truly free!

Yet once again, once more again,
My bark bounds o'er the wave;
They know not, who ne'er clanked the chain,
What 'tis to be a slave:
To sit alone, beside the wood,
And gaze upon the sky:
This may, indeed, be solitude,
But 'tis not slavery.

Fatigued with labor's noontide task,
To sigh in vain for sleep;
Or faintly smile, our griefs to mask,
When 't would be joy to weep;
To court the shade of leafy bower,
Thirst for the freedom wave,
But to obtain denied the power—
This is to be a slave!

Son of the sword! on honor's field
'Tis thine to find a grave;
Yet, when from life's worst ill 'twould shield,
It comes not to the slave.
The lightsome to the heavy heart,
The laugh changed to the sigh;
To live from all we love apart—
Oh!this is slavery.

Fling abroad its folds to the cooling breeze,
Let it float at the mast-head high;
And gather around, all hearts resolved,
To sustain it there or die:
An emblem of peace and hope to the world,
Unstained let it ever be;
And say to the world, where'er it waves,
Our flag is the flag of the free!

That banner proclaims to the list'ning earth,
That the reign of base tyrants is o'er,
The galling chain of the cruel lord,
Shall enslave mankind no more:
An emblem of hope to the poor and crushed,
O place it where all may see;
And shout with glad voice as you raise it high,
Our flag is the flag of the free!

Then on high, on high let that banner wave,
And lead us the foe to meet,
Let it float in triumph o'er our heads,
Or be our winding sheet;
And never, oh, never be it furled,
'Till it wave o'er earth and sea;
And all mankind shall swell the shout
Our flag is the flag of the free.

March to the battlefield,
The foe is now before us;
Each heart is freedom's shield,
And heaven is smiling o'er us.
The woes and pains of slavery's chains,
That bind three millions under;
In proud disdain we'll burst their chain,
And tear each link asunder.

Who for his country brave,
Would fly from her invader?
Who his base life to save
Would traitor like degrade her?
Our hallowed cause—
Our homes and laws,
'Gainst tyrant hosts sustaining,
We'll win a crown of bright renown,
Or die, man's rights maintaining,
March to the battlefield, &c.

Oft in the chilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
When all her silvery light
The moon is pouring round me,
Beneath its ray I kneel and pray
That God would give some token
That slavery's chains on Southern plains,
Shall all ere long be broken:
Yes, in the chilly night,
Though slavery's chain has bound me,
Kneel I, and feel the might
Of God's right arm around me.

When at the driver's call,
In cold or sultry weather,
We slaves, both great and small,
Turn out to toil together,
I feel like one from whom the sun
Of hope has long departed;
And morning's light, and weary night,
Still find me broken hearted:
Thus, when the chilly breath
Of night is sighing round me,
Kneel I, and wish that death
In his cold chain had bound me.

From valley and mountain, from hilltop and glen,
What shouts thro' the air are rebounding!
And echo is sending the sounds back again,
And loud thro' the air they are sounding,
And loud through the air they are sounding:
And if you ask what those joyous strains?
'Tis the songs of bondmen now bursting their chains.

And who through our nation is waging the fight?
What host from the battle is flying?
Our true hearted freemen maintain the right,
And the monster oppression is dying,
And the monster oppression is dying:
And if you ask what you there behold?
'Tis the army of freemen, the true and the bold.

Too long have slave-holders triumphantly reigned,
Too long in their chains have they bound us;
To freedom awaking, no longer enchained,
The goddess of freedom has saved us,
The goddess of freedom has saved us:
And if you ask what has made us free?
'Tis the vote that gave us our liberty.

The bondmen are free in the isles of the main!
The chains from their limbs they are flinging!
They stand up as men! —never tyrant again,
In the pride of his heart, shall God's image profane!
It is Liberty's song that is ringing!
Hark! loud comes the cry o'er the bounding sea,
"Freedom!Freedom!Freedom, our joy is in thee!"

Alas! that to-day, on Columbia's shore,
The groans of her slaves are resounding!
On plains of the South their life-blood they pour!
O, Freemen! blest Freemen! your help they implore!
It is Slavery's wail that is sounding!
Hark! loud comes the cry on the Southern gale,
"Freedom! Freedom! Freedom or death, must prevail!"

O ye who are blest with fair Liberty's light,
With courage and hope all abounding,
With weapons of love be ye bold for the right!
By the preaching of truth put oppression to flight!
Then, your altars triumphant surrounding,
Loud, loud let the anthem of joy ring out!
"Freedom! Freedom!" list all the world to the shout!

Ye sons of freemen wake to sadness,
Hark!hark, what myriads bid you rise;
Three millions of our race in madness
Break out in wails, in bitter cries,
Break out in wails, in bitter cries;
Must men whose hearts now bleed with anguish,
Yes, trembling slaves, in freedom's land
Endure the lash, nor raise a hand?
Must nature 'neath the whip-cord languish?
Have pity on the slave,
Take courage from God's word;
Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved, these captives shall be free.

The fearful storm—it threatens lowering,
Which God in mercy long delays;
Slaves yet may see their masters cowering,
While whole plantations smoke and blaze!
While whole plantations smoke and blaze!
And we may now prevent the ruin,
Ere lawless force with guilty stride
Shall scatter vengeance far and wide—
With untold crimes their hands embruing.
Have pity on the slave;
Take courage from God's word;
Pray, on, pray on, all hearts resolved—these captives shall be free!

With luxury and wealth surrounded,
The southern masters proudly dare,
With thirst of gold and power unbounded,
To mete and vend God's light and air!
To mete and vend God's light and air;
Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded,
Till life's poor toilsome day is o'er;
While they in vain for right implore;
And shall they longer still be goaded?
Have pity on the slave;
Take courage from God's word;
Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved these captives shall be free.

O Liberty!can man e'er bind thee?
Can overseers quench thy flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee,
Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame?
Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame?
Too long the slave has groaned bewailing
The power these heartless tyrants wield;
Yet free them not by sword or shield,
For with men's heart's they're unavailing,
Have pity on the slave:
Take courage from God's word;
Vote on! vote on! all hearts resolved—these captives shall be free!

Men! whose boast it is that ye
Come of fathers brave and free;
If there breathe on earth a slave,
Are ye truly free and brave?
Are ye not base slaves indeed,
Men unworthy to be freed?
If ye do not feel the chain,
When it works a brother's pain?

Women! who shall one day bear
Sons to breathe God's bounteous air,
If ye hear without a blush,
Deeds to make the roused blood rush
Like red lava through your veins,
For your sisters now in chains;
Answer! are ye fit to be
Mothers of the brave and free?

Is true freedom but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And, with leathern hearts forget
That we owe mankind a debt?
No! true freedom is to share
All the chains our brothers wear,
And with hand and heart to be
Earnest to make others free.

They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;
They are slaves, who will not choose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
Rather than, in silence, shrink
From the truth they needs must think;
They are slaves, who dare not be
In the right with two or three

Does the land, in native might,
Pant for Liberty and Right?
Long to cast from human kind
Chains of body and of mind—
That's my country, that's the land
I can love with heart and hand,
O'er her miseries weep and sigh,
For her glory live and die.

Does the land her banner wave,
Most invitingly, to save;
Wooing to her arms of love,
Strangers who would freemen prove?
That's the land to which I cling,
Of her glories I can sing,
On her altar nobly swear
Higher still her fame to rear.

Does the land no conquest make,
But the war for honor's sake—
Count the greatest triumph won,
That which most of good has done—
That's the land approved of God;
That's the land whose stainless sod
O'er my sleeping dust shall bloom,
Noblest land and noblest tomb!

Arouse, ye friends of law and right,
Arouse, arouse, arouse!
All who in Freedom's cause delight,
Arouse, arouse, arouse!
The time, the time, is drawing near,
When we must at our posts appear;
Then clear the decks for action, clear!
Arouse, arouse, arouse!

Awake, and couch Truth's fatal dart
Awake!awake!awake!
Bid error to the shades depart,
Awake!awake!awake!
Prepare to deal the deadly blow,
To lay the power of Slavery low,
A ballot, lads, is our veto;
Awake!awake!awake!

Arise! ye sons of honest toil,
Arise!arise!arise!
Ye free-born tillers of the soil,
Arise!arise!arise!
Come from your workshops and the field,
We've sworn to conquer ere we'll yield;
The ballot-box is Freedom's shield,
Arise!arise!arise!

Unite, and strike for equal laws,
Unite!unite!unite!
For equal Justice! that's our cause
Unite!unite!unite!
Shall the vile slavites win the day?
Shall men of whips and blood bear sway?
Unite, and dash their chains away,
Unite!unite!unite!

March on! and vote the hireling down,
March on!march on!march on!
Our blighted land with blessings crown,
March on!march on!march on!
Shall Manhood ever wear the chain?
Shall Freedom look to us in vain?
Up to the struggle! Strike again!
March on!march on!march on!

Hurrah! the word pass down the line,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Birney's and Morris' name shall shine,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Like comets, on their country's page,
Without a cloud, undimmed by age,
Revered by patriot and by sage;
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!

Hurrah! the ball is rolling on,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
In spite of whig or loco don,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Our country still has hopes to rise,
The bravest efforts win the prize,
Hurrah! &c.

With joy elate our friends appear,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Our vaunting foes are filled with fear,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Ten thousand slaves have run away
From Georgia to Canada;
Hurrah! &c.

Lo! all the world for Birney now,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
See! as he comes the parties bow,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
No iron mixed with miry clay,
Will ever do, the people say,
Hurrah! &c.

Then up, ye hearties, one and all!
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Be faithful to your country's call;
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Let none the vote of freedom shun,
Run to the meeting—run, run, run!
Hurrah, &c.

Be Birney's name the one you choose,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
Let not a soul his ballot lose,
Hurrah!hurrah!hurrah!
No other man in this our day
Will ever do, the people say:
Hurrah! &c.

Freedom's consecrated dower,
Casket of a priceless gem!
Nobler heritage of power,
Than imperial diadem!
Corner-stone, on which was reared,
Liberty's triumphal dome,
When her glorious form appeared,
'Midst our own Green Mountain home.

Guard it, Freemen! guard it well,
Spotless as your maiden's fame!
Never let your children tell
Of your weakness, of your shame;
That their fathers basely sold,
What was bought with blood and toil,
That you bartered right for gold,
Here, on Freedom's sacred soil.

Let your eagle's quenchless eye,
Fixed, unerring, sleepless, bright,
Watch, when danger hovers nigh,
From his lofty mountain height;
While the stripes and stars shall wave
O'er this treasure, pure and free—
The land's Palladium, it shall save
The home and shrine of liberty.

Christian mother, when thy prayer,
Trembles on the twilight air,
And thou askest God to keep
In their waking and their sleep,
Those, whose love is more to thee
Than the wealth of land or sea—
Think of those who wildly mourn
For the loved ones from them torn.

Christian daughter, sister, wife,
Ye who wear a guarded life,
Ye, whose bliss hangs not, thank God,
On a tyrant's word or nod,
Will ye hear, with careless eye,
Of the wild, despairing cry,
Rising up from human hearts,
As their latest bliss departs.

Blest ones, whom no hands on earth,
Dare to wrench from home and hearth,
Ye, whose hearts are sheltered well,
By affection's holy spell;
Oh, forget not those for whom
Life is nought but changeless gloom!
O'er whose days, so woe-begone,
Hope may paint no brighter dawn.

Will ye despise the acorn,
Just thrusting out its shoot,
Ye giants of the forest,
That strike the deepest root?
Will ye despise the streamlets
Upon the mountain side;
Ye broad and mighty rivers,
On sweeping to the tide?

Wilt thou despise the crescent,
That trembles, newly born,
Thou bright and peerless planet,
Whose reign shall reach the morn?
Time now his scythe is whetting,
Ye giant oaks, for you;
Ye floods, the sea is thirsting,
To drink you like the dew.

That crescent, faint and trembling,
Her lamp shall nightly trim,
Till thou, imperious planet,
Shall in her light grow dim;
And so shall wax the Party,
Now feeble at its birth,
Till Liberty shall cover
This tyrant trodden earth.

That party, as we term it,
The Party of the Whole—
Has for its firm foundation,
The substance of the soul;
It groweth out of Reason,
The strongest soil below;
The smaller is its budding,
The more its room to grow!

Then rally to its banners,
Supported by the true—
The weakest are the waning,
The many are the few:
Of what is small, but living,
God makes himself the nurse;
While "Onward" cry the voices
Of all his universe.

Our plant is of the cedar,
That knoweth not decay:
Its growth shall bless the mountains,
Till mountains pass away.
God speed the infant party,
The party of the whole—
And surely he will do it,
While reason is its soul.

The storm-winds wildly blowing,
The bursting billows mock,
As with their foam-crests glowing,
They dash the sea-girt rock;
Amid the wild commotion,
The revel of the sea,
A voice is on the ocean,
Be free, O man, be free.

Behold the sea-brine leaping
High in the murky air;
List to the tempest sweeping
In chainless fury there.
What moves the mighty torrent,
And bids it flow abroad?
Or turns the rapid current?
What, but the voice of God?

Then, answer, is the spirit
Less noble or less free?
From whom does it inherit
The doom of slavery?
When man can bind the waters,
That they no longer roll,
Then let him forge the fetters
To clog the human soul.

Till then a voice is stealing
From earth and sea, and sky,
And to the soul revealing
Its immortality.
The swift wind chants the numbers
Careering o'er the sea,
And earth aroused from slumbers,
Re-echoes, "Man, be free."

Arouse, arouse, arouse!
Ye bold New England men!
No more with sullen brows,
Remain as ye have been:
Your country's freedom calls,
Once bought by patriots' blood;
Rouse, or that freedom falls
Beneath the tyrant's rod!

Three million men in chains,
Your friendly aid implore;
Slight you the piteous strains
That from their bosoms pour?
Shall it be told in story,
Or troll'd in burning song,
New England's boasted glory
Forgot the bondman's wrong?

Shall freeman's sons be taunted,
That freedom's spirit's fled;
That what the fathers vaunted,
With sordid sons is dead?
That they in grovelling gain
Have lost their ancient fire,
And 'neath the despot's chain,
Let liberty expire?

Oh no, your father's bones
Would cry out from the ground;
Ay, e'en New England's stones
Would echo on the sound:
Rouse, then, New England men!
Rally in freedom's name!
In your bosoms once again
Light up the sleeping flame!

Let the floods clap their hands,
Let the mountains rejoice,
Let all the glad lands
Breathe a jubilant voice;
The sun that now sets on the waves of the sea
Shall gild with his rising the land of the free.

Let the islands be glad!
For their King in his might,
Who his glory hath clad
With a garment of light,
In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid,
And in the green waters his pathway hath made.

No more shall the deep,
Lend its awe-stricken waves,
In their caverns to steep
Its wild burden of slaves;
The Lord sitteth King—sitteth King on the flood,
He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood.

Dispel the blue haze,
Golden fountain of morn!
With meridian blaze
The wide ocean adorn:
The sunlight has touched the glad waves of the sea,
And day now illumines the land of the free.

When bright morning lights the hills,
Where free children sing most cheerily,
My young breast with sorrow fills,
While here I plod my way so wearily:
Sad my face, more sad my heart,
From home, from all I had to part,
A loving mother, my sister, my brother,
For chains and lash in hopeless misery,
Children try it, could you try it;
But one day to live in slavery,
Children try it, try it, try it;
Come, come, give me liberty.

Ere I close my eyes to sleep,
Thoughts of home keep coming over me;
All alone I wake and weep—
Yet mother hears not—no one pities me—
Never smiling, sick, forlorn,
Oh that I had ne'er been born!
I should not sorrow to die to-morrow,
Then mother earth would kindly shelter me;
Children try it, could you try it!
Give me freedom, yes, from misery!
Children try it, try it, try it!
Come, come, give me Liberty!

Stolen we were from Africa,
Transported to America;
It's work all day and half the night,
And rise before the morning light;
Sinner!man!why don't you repent?
For the judgment is rolling around!
For the judgment is rolling around!

Like the brute beast in public street,
Endure the cold and stand the heat;
King Jesus told you once before
To go your way and sin no more;
Sinner! man! &c.

If e'er I reach the Northern shore,
I'll ne'er go back, no, never more;
I think I hear these ladies say,
We'll sing for Freedom night and day;
Sinner! man! &c.

Now let us all, yes, every man,
Vote for the Slave, for now we can;
Break every chain and every yoke,
Vote not for Clay nor James K. Polk;
Sinner! man! &c.

Come let us go for James G. Birney,
Who sells not flesh and blood for money;
He is the man you all can see,
Who gave his slaves their liberty;
Sinner! man! &c.

We hail thee as an honest Man,
God made thee on his noblest plan;
To stand for freedom in that hour,
To thrust a blow at Slavery's power;
Sinner! man! &c.

At dead of night, when others sleep,
Near Hell I took my station;
And from that dungeon, dark and deep,
O'erheard this conversation:
"Hail, Prince of Darkness, ever hail,
Adored by each infernal,
I come among your gang to wail,
And taste of death eternal."

"Where are you from?" the fiend demands,
"What makes you look so frantic?
Are you from Carolina's strand,
Just west of the Atlantic?
Are you that man of blood and birth,
Devoid of human feeling?
The wretch I saw, when last on earth,
In human cattle dealing?

"Whose soul, with blood and rapine stain'd,
With deeds of crime to dark it;
Who drove God's image, starved and chained,
To sell like beasts in market?
Who tore the infant from the breast,
That you might sell its mother?
Whose craving mind could never rest,
Till you had sold a brother?

"Who gave the sacrament to those
Whose chains and handcuffs rattle?
Whose backs soon after felt the blows,
More heavy than thy cattle?"
"I'm from the South," the ghost replies,
"And I was there a teacher;
Saw men in chains, with laughing eyes:
I was a Southern Preacher!

"In tassled pulpits, gay and fine,
I strove to please the tyrants,
To prove that slavery is divine,
And what the Scripture warrants.
And when I saw the horrid sight,
Of slaves by tortures dying,
And told their masters all was right,
I knew that I was lying.

"I knew all this, and who can doubt,
I felt a sad misgiving?
But still, I knew, if I spoke out,
That I should lose my living.
They made me fat, they paid me well,
To preach down abolition,
I slept—I died—I woke in Hell,
How altered my condition!

"I now am in a sea of fire,
Whose fury ever rages;
I am a slave, and can't get free,
Through everlasting ages.
Yes! when the sun and moon shall fade,
And fire the rocks dissever,
I must sink down beneath the shade,
And feel God's wrath for ever."

Our Ghost stood trembling all the while—
He saw the scene transpiring;
With soul aghast and visage sad,
All hope was now retiring.
The Demon cried, on vengeance bent,
"I say, in haste, retire!
And you shall have a negro sent
To attend and punch the fire."

Ho! the car Emancipation
Rides majestic thro' our nation,
Bearing on its train the story,
Liberty! a nation's glory.
Roll it along, thro' the nation,
Freedom's car, Emancipation!

Men of various predilections,
Frightened, run in all directions;
Merchants, editors, physicians,
Lawyers, priests, and politicians.
Get out of the way!every station!
Clear the track of 'mancipation!

Let the ministers and churches
Leave behind sectarian lurches;
Jump on board the Car of Freedom,
Ere it be too late to need them.
Sound the alarm!Pulpits thunder!
Ere too late you see your blunder!

Politicians gazed, astounded,
When, at first, our bell resounded:
Freight trains are coming, tell these foxes,
With our votes and ballot boxes
Jump for your lives!politicians,
From your dangerous, false positions.

Railroads to Emancipation
Cannot rest on Clay foundation.
And the tracks of 'The Polk-itian'
Are but railroads to perdition!
Pull up the rails!Emancipation
Cannot rest on such foundation.

All true friends of Emancipation,
Haste to Freedom's railroad station;
Quick into the cars get seated,
All is ready and completed. —
Put on the steam!all are crying,
And the liberty flags are flying.

On, triumphant see them bearing,
Through sectarian rubbish tearing;
The bell and whistle and the steaming,
Startle thousands from their dreaming.
Look out for the cars while the bell rings!
Ere the sound your funeral knell rings.

See the people run to meet us;
At the depôts thousands greet us;
All take seats with exultation,
In the Car Emancipation.
Huzza!Huzza!!Emancipation
Soon will bless our happy nation.
Huzza!Huzza!Huzza!!!

Let waiting throngs now lift their voices,
As Freedom's glorious day draws near,
While every gentle tongue rejoices,
And each bold heart is filled with cheer,
The slave has seen the Northern star,
He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!
Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!

Though many still are writhing under
The cruel whips of "chevaliers,"
Who mothers from their children sunder,
And scourge them for their helpless tears—
Their safe deliv'rance is not far!
The day draws nigh! —hurrah, hurrah!

Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest
Surrounds the earth as with a pall;
Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest,
That on thy sight the rays may fall!
No doubt let now thy bosom mar:
Send up the shout—hurrah, hurrah!

Shall we distrust the God of Heaven? —
He every doubt and fear will quell;
By him the captive's chains are riven—
So let us loud the chorus swell!
Man shall be free from cruel law,—
Man shall be Man!—hurrah, hurrah!

No more again shall it be granted
To southern overseers to rule—
No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted
With cringing low in slavery's school.
So clear the way for Freedom's car—
The free shall rule! —hurrah, hurrah!

Send up the shout Emancipation—
From heaven let the echoes bound—
Soon will it bless this franchised nation,—
Come raise again the stirring sound?
Emancipation near and far—
Swell up the shout—hurrah! hurrah!

See yon glorious star ascending,
Brightly o'er the Southern sea!
Truth and peace on earth portending,
Herald of a jubilee!
Hail it, Freemen!Hail it, Freemen!
'Tis the star of Liberty.

Dim at first—but widely spreading,
Soon 'twill burst supremely bright,
Life and health and comfort shedding
O'er the shades of moral night;
Hail it, Bondmen!
Slavery cannot bear its light.

Few its rays—'t is but the dawning
Of the reign of truth and peace;
Joy to slaves—yet sad forewarning,
To the tyrants of our race;
Tremble, Tyrants!
Soon your cruel pow'r will cease.

Earth is brighten'd by the glory
Of its mild and peaceful rays;
Ransom'd slaves shall tell the story,
See its light, and sing its praise;
Hail it, Christians!
Harbinger of better days.

Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming
Comfort to the mourning slave;
God has heard him long complaining,
And extends his arm to save;
Proud Oppression
Soon shall find a shameful grave.

See! the light of truth is breaking,
Full and clear on ev'ry hand;
And the voice of mercy, speaking,
Now is heard through all the land;
Firm and fearless,
See the friends of Freedom stand!

Lo! the nation is arousing
From its slumbers, long and deep;
And the church of God is waking,
Never, never more to sleep,
While a bondman,
In his chains remains to weep.

Long, too long, have we been dreaming,
O'er our country's sin and shame;
Let us now, the time redeeming,
Press the helpless captive's claim,
Till, exulting,
He shall cast aside his chain.

We hail thee, Birney, just and true,
The calm and fearless, staunch and tried,
The bravest of the valiant few,
Our country's hope, our country's pride!
In Freedom's battle take the van;
We hail thee as an honest man.

Thy country, in her darkest hour,
When heroes bend at Mammon's shrine,
And virtue sells herself to Power,
Lights up in smiles at deeds like thine!
Then welcome to the battle's van—
We hail thee as an honest man!

Thy own example leads the way
From Egypt's gloom to Canaan's light;
Thy justice is the breaking day
Of Slavery's long and guilty night;
Then welcome to the battle's van—
We hail thee as an honest man.

Thine is the eagle eye to see,
And thine a human heart to feel;
A worthy leader of the free,
We'll trust thee with a Nation's weal;
We'll trust thee in the battle's van—
We hail thee as an honest man.

An honest man—an honest man—
God made thee on his noblest plan,
To do the right and brave the scorn;
To stand in Freedom's "hope forlorn;"
Then welcome to the triumph's van—
We hail thee as our chosen man!

Oh, it is not the tear at this moment shed,
When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him,
That can tell how beloved was the soul that's fled,
Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him:
'Tis the tear through many a long day wept,
Through a life by his loss all shaded,
'Tis the sad remembrance fondly kept,
When all other griefs have faded.

Oh! thus shall we mourn, and his memory's light
While it shines through our hearts will improve them;
For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright,
When we think how he lived but to love them.
And as buried saints the grave perfume,
Where fadeless they've long been lying;—
So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom
From the image he left there in dying.

The vote, the vote, the mighty vote,
Though once we used a humbler note,
And prayed our servants to be just,
We tell the now they must, they must.

Chorus.

The tyrant's grapple, by our vote,
We'll loosen from our brother's throat,
With Washington we here agree,
The vote's the weapon of the free.

We'll scatter not the precious power
On parties that to slavery cower;
But make it one against the wrong,
Till down it comes, a million strong.
The tyrant's grapple, &c.

We'll bake the dough-face with our vote,
Who stood the scorching when we wrote;
And paler than the milky way,
We'll bake the plastic face of Clay
The tyrant's grapple, &c.

Our vote shall teach all statesmen law,
Who in the Southern harness draw;
So well contented to be slaves,
They fain would prove their fathers knaves!
The tyrant's grapple, &c.

We'll not provoke our wives to use
A power that we through fear abuse;
His mother shall not blush to own
One voter of us for a son.
The tyrant's grapple, by our vote,
We'll loosen from our brother's throat;
With Washington we here agree,
Whose mother taught him to be free!

Come all ye true friends of the nation,
Attend to humanity's call;
Come aid the poor slave's liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball—
And roll on the liberty ball—
And roll on the liberty ball,
Come aid the poor slave's liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball.

The Liberty hosts are advancing—
For freedom to all they declare;
The down-trodden millions are sighing—
Come, break up our gloom of despair.
Come break up our gloom of despair, &c.

Ye Democrats, come to the rescue,
And aid on the liberty cause,
And millions will rise up and bless you
With heart-cheering songs of applause,
With heart-cheering songs, &c.

Ye Whigs forsake Clay and John Tyler!
And boldly step into our ranks;
We'll spread our pure banner still wider,
And invite all the friends of the banks,—
And invite all the friends of the banks, &c.

And when we have formed the blest union
We'll firmly march on, one and all—
We'll sing when we meet in communion,
And roll on the liberty ball,
And roll on the liberty ball, &c.

How can you stand halting while virtue
Is sweetly appealing to all;
Then haste to the standard of duty,
And roll on the liberty ball;
And roll on the liberty ball, &c.

The question of test is now turning,
And freedom or slavery must fall,
While hope in the bosom is burning,
We'll roll on the liberty ball;
We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c.

Ye freemen attend to your voting,
Your ballots will answer the call;
And while others attend to log-rolling,
We'll roll on the liberty ball—
We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c.

Hark! hark! to the Trumpet of Freedom!
Her rallying signal she blows:
Come, gather around her broad banner,
And battle 'gainst Liberty's foes.

Our forefathers plighted their honor,
Their lives and their property, too,
To maintain in defiance of Britain,
Their principles, righteous and true.

We'll show to the world we are worthy
The blessings our ancestors won,
And finish the temple of Freedom,
That Hancock and Franklin begun.

Hurra, for the old-fashioned doctrine,
That men are created all free!
We ever will boldly maintain it,
Nor care who the tyrant may be.

When Poland was fighting for freedom,
Our voices went over the sea,
To bid her God-speed in the contest—
That Poland, like us, might be free.

When down-trodden Greece had up-risen,
And baffled the Mahomet crew;
We rejoiced in the glorious issue,
That Greece had her liberty, too.

Repeal, do we also delight in—
Three cheers for the "gem of the sea!"
And soon may the bright day be dawning,
When Ireland, like us, shall be free.

Like us, who are foes to oppression;
But not like America now.
With shame do we blush to confess it,
Too many to slavery bow.

We're foes unto wrong and oppression,
No matter which side of the sea;
And ever intend to oppose them,
Till all of God's image are free.

Some tell us because men are colored,
They should not our sympathy share;
We ask not the form or complexion—
The seal of our Maker is there!

Success to the old-fashioned doctrine,
That men are created all free!
And down with the power of the despot,
Wherever his strongholds may be.

We're proud of the name of a freeman,
And proud of the character, too;
And never will do any action,
Save such as a freeman may do.

We'll finish the Temple of Freedom,
And make it capacious within,
That all who seek shelter may find it,
Whatever the hue of their skin.

For thus the Almighty designed It,
And gave to our fathers the plan;
Intending that liberty's blessings,
Should rest upon every man.

Then up with the cap-stone and cornice,
With columns encircle its wall,
Throw open its gateway, and make it
A home and a refuge for all!

Break every yoke, the Gospel cries,
And let th' oppressed go free,
Let every captive taste the joys
Of peace and liberty.

Send thy good Spirit from above,
And melt th' oppressor's heart,
Send sweet deliv'rance to the slave,
And bid his woes depart.

Lord, when shall man thy voice obey,
And rend each iron chain,
Oh when shall love its golden sway,
O'er all the earth maintain.

With freedom's blessings crown his day—
O'erflow his heart with love,
Teach him that straight and narrow way,
Which leads to rest above.

She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door,
Which the long evening shadow is stretching before;
With a music as sweet as the music which seems
Breathed softly and faint in the ear of our dreams!

How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye,
Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky!
And lightly and freely her dark tresses play
O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they!

Who comes in his pride to that low cottage-door—
The haughty and rich to the humble and poor?
'Tis the great Southern planter—the master who waves
His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves.

"Nay, Ellen—for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin,
Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin;
Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel,
Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel!

"But thou art too lovely and precious a gem
To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them—
For shame, Ellen, shame! —cast thy bondage aside,
And away to the South, as my blessing and pride.

"Oh, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong,
But where flowers are blossoming all the year long,
Where the shade of the palm tree is over my home,
And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom!

"Oh, come to my home, where my servants shall all
Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call;
They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe,
And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law."

Oh, could ye have seen her—that pride of our girls—
Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls,
With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel,
And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel!

"Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold
Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou hast sold!
Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear
The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear!

"And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours,
And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy flowers;
But, dearer the blast round our mountains which raves,
Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves!

"Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel,
With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel;
Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be
In fetters with them, than in freedom with thee!"

A voice has gone forth, and the land is awake!
Our freemen shall gather from ocean to lake,
Our cause is as pure as the earth ever saw,
And our faith we will pledge in the thrilling huzza.
Then huzza, then huzza,
Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw.

Let them blacken our names and pursue us with ill,
Our hearts shall be faithful to liberty still;
Then rally! then rally! come one and come all,
With harness well girded, and echo the call.

Thy hill-tops, New England, shall leap at the cry,
And the prairie and far distant south shall reply;
It shall roll o'er the land till the farthermost glen
Gives back the glad summons again and again.

Oppression shall hear in its temple of blood,
And read on its wall the handwriting of God;
Niagara's torrent shall thunder it forth,
It shall burn in the sentinel star of the North.

It shall blaze in the lightning, and speak in the thunder,
Till Slavery's fetters are riven asunder,
And freedom her rights has triumphantly won,
And our country her garments of beauty put on.
Then huzza, then huzza,
Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw.

Let them blacken our names, and pursue us with ill,
We bow at thy altar, sweet liberty still!
As the breeze f'm the mountain sweeps over the river,
So, changeless and free, shall our thoughts be, for ever.

Then on to the conflict for freedom and truth;
Come Matron, come Maiden, come Manhood and youth,
Come gather! come gather! come one and come all,
And soon shall the altars of Slavery fall.

The forests shall know it, and lift up their voice,
To bid the green prairies and valleys rejoice;
And the "Father of Waters," join Mexico's sea,
In the anthem of Nature for millions set free.
Then huzza!then huzza!
Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw.

Be kind to each other!
The night's coming on,
When friend and when brother
Perchance may be gone!
Then 'midst our dejection,
How sweet to have earned
The blest recollection,
Of kindness—returned!

When day hath departed,
And memory keeps
Her watch, broken-hearted,
Where all she loved sleeps!
Let falsehood assail not,
Nor envy disprove—
Let trifles prevail not
Against those ye love!

Nor change with to-morrow,
Should fortune take wing,
But the deeper the sorrow,
The closer still cling!
Oh! be kind to each other!
The night's coming on,
When friend and when brother
Perchance may be gone.

Praise for slumbers of the night,
For the wakening morning's light,
For the board with plenty spread,
Gladness o'er the spirit shed;
Healthful pulse and cloudless eye,
Opening on the smiling sky.

Praise! for loving hearts that still
With life's bounding pulses thrill;
Praise, that still our own may know—
Earthly joy and earthly woe.
Praise for every varied good,
Bounteous round our pathway strew'd!

Prayer! for grateful hearts to raise
Incense meet of prayer and praise!
Prayer, for spirits calm and meek,
Wisdom life's best joys to seek;
Strength 'midst devious paths to tread—
That through which the Saviour led.

Prayer! for those who, day by day,
Weep their bitter life away;
Prayer, for those who bind the chain
Rudely on their throbbing vein—
That repentance deep may win
Pardon for the fearful sin!

Where are the friends that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago!
Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer?
Long, long ago, long, long ago!
Friends that I loved in the grave are laid low,
All hope of freedom hath fled from me now.
I am degraded, for man was my foe,
Long, long ago, long, long ago!

Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head—
Long, long ago—long ago!
Oh, how I wept when I found she was dead!
Long, long ago—long ago!
She was my angel, my love and my pride—
Vainly to save her from torture I tried,
Poor broken heart! She rejoiced as she died,
Long, long ago—long, long ago!

Let me look back on the days of my youth—
Long, long ago—long ago!
Master withheld from me knowledge and truth—
Long, long ago—long ago!
Crushed all the hopes of my earliest day,
Sent me from father and mother away—
Forbade me to read, nor allowed me to pray—
Long, long ago—long, long ago!

A poor wayfaring man of grief,
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief,
That I could never answer nay;
I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye,
Which won my love, I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered—not a word he spake—
Just perishing for want of bread,
I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again:
Mine was an angel's portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.

'Twas night. The floods were out, it blew
A winter hurricane aloof:
I heard his voice abroad, and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof;
I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest,
I laid him on my couch to rest:
Then made the ground my bed and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

I saw him bleeding in his chains,
And tortured 'neath the driver's lash,
His sweat fell fast along the plains,
Deep dyed from many a fearful gash:
But I in bonds remembered him,
And strove to free each fettered limb,
As with my tears I washed his blood,
Me he baptized with mercy's flood.

I saw him in the negro pew,
His head hung low upon his breast,
His locks were wet with drops of dew,
Gathered while he for entrance pressed
Within those aisles, whose courts are given
That black and white may reach one heaven;
And as I meekly sought his feet,
He smiled, and made a throne my seat.

In prison I saw him next condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him midst shame and scorn.
My friendship's utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die;
The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill,
But the free spirit cried, "I will."

Then in a moment to my view,
The stranger darted from disguise;
The tokens in his hands I knew,
My Saviour stood before my eyes!
He spoke, and my poor name he named—
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed,
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto me."

We are coming, we are coming! freedom's battle is begun!
No hand shall furl her banner ere her victory be won!
Our shields are locked for liberty, and mercy goes before:
Tyrants tremble in your citadel! oppression shall be o'er.
We will vote for Birney,
We will vote for Birney,
We're for Morris and for Birney,
And for Freedom through the land.

We have hatred, dark and deep, for the fetter and the thong;
We bring light for prisoned spirits, for the captive's wail a song;
We are coming, we are coming! and, "No league with tyrant man,"
Is emblazoned on our banner, while Jehovah leads the van!
We will vote for Birney,
We will vote for Birney,
We're for Morris and for Birney,
And for Freedom through the land!

We are coming, we are coming! but we wield no battle brand:
We are armed with truth and justice, with God's charter in our hand,
And our voice which swells for freedom—freedom now and ever more—
Shall be heard as ocean's thunder, when they burst upon the shore!
We will vote for Birney,
We will vote for Birney,
We're for Morris and for Birney,
And for Freedom through the land.

Be patient, O, be patient!ye suffering ones of earth!
Denied a glorious heritage—our common right by birth;
With fettered limbs and spirits, your battle shall be won!
O be patient—we are coming! suffer on, suffer on!
We will vote for Birney,
We will vote for Birney,
We're for Morris and for Birney,
And for Freedom through the land.

We are coming, we are coming! not as comes the tempest's wrath,
When the frown of desolation sits brooding o'er its path;
But with mercy, such as leaves his holy signet-light upon
The air in lambent beauty, when the darkened storm is gone.
We will vote for Birney,
We will vote for Birney,
We're for Morris and for Birney,
And for Freedom through the land.

O, be patient in your misery! be mute in your despair!
While your chains are grinding deeper, there's a voice upon the air!
Ye shall feel its potent echoes, ye shall hear its lovely sound,
We are coming! we are coming! bringing freedom to the bound!
We will vote for Birney,
We will vote for Birney,
We're for Morris and for Birney,
And for Freedom through the land.